Where Mercy Flows by Karen Harter

and pushed until I thought my guts were going to come out. It was
     like I wasn’t in control of my own body anymore—it just took over. And out popped TJ. He just slid into the doctor’s hands
     and I lay back on the bed exhausted. I didn’t even ask if it was a boy or a girl at first, I was so worn out. But I saw the
     doctor’s face and then Tim’s and I got worried. I asked if everything was okay and the nurse smiled and said I had a beautiful
     baby boy. Tim looked like the whole experience had been too much for him. He went and sat down in a chair like he had the
     wind knocked out of him. Then they laid the baby on my belly and I knew. I knew the minute I laid eyes on him that he wasn’t
     Tim’s. He was as brown as milk chocolate with a head full of coal-black hair.”
    “Seems like there’s a big chunk of this story you’ve left out.”
    “Tijuana.”
    “What?”
    “Tijuana. That’s what everyone called the guy who gave me TJ. That’s how I came up with his name.”
    “So where’s this Tijuana now?”
    I shrugged. “Siberia for all I care.” I felt myself relaxing into the truck’s upholstery. “Maybe we should take a little nap.”
    Donnie had other ideas. He slid an orange into each of my jacket pockets and stashed the brown bag containing the six-pack
     under his arm. “Come on.” He opened his door and pulled me out on his side.
    “Where are we going?” It was unlike me to ask. Usually, I was up for any adventure, but it felt late. I could have crawled
     into the back of the pickup with a blanket and called it a night. We walked down a dirt trail through some alder trees to
     where the railroad track paralleled the river. The cool night air and the fresh scent of the river revived me, but I took
     the tracks in slow double steps. Even in my slightly inebriated state, I remembered that I had to be careful.
    The moon had slipped some, but its light still touched the edges of the metal rails. The tracks veered off to our left up
     ahead and then spanned the river on a huge suspension trestle whose framework was hazily silhouetted on the sky. I knew then
     where we were headed.
    “Hey, Donnie! Slow down.”
    He stopped and waited for me to catch up. “What’s the matter? You haven’t gone wimpy on me, have you?”
    “I can still kick your butt.”
    “At what? Scrabble?”
    His backside happened to be a good target at the moment, so I kicked it. He grabbed my leg in midair, I lost my balance and
     almost went down, but he caught me. He had me by my jacket sleeves and was laughing, until he pulled me up closer to his face.
     “You okay?”
    I smiled my cocky smile and brushed his hands off my arms. “Of course I’m okay.” I pointed out to the trestle. “Onward!”
    Donnie took the tracks in long strides while I walked the rail like a balance beam, but with one hand on his shoulder. The
     river swirled below us in the moonlight. The span of the railroad bridge seemed longer than it was when we were kids. We finally
     reached the middle and without discussion sat on the edge, our legs dangling high above the current. Long, unbroken spirals
     of orange peel dropped into the darkness and disappeared without a sound.
    “So . . .” I felt compelled to break the silence. “You never got married?”
    “Nope.”
    “What’s the holdup?”
    “Pretty slim pickin’s around here. Did you see those women playing darts at Fraser’s?” I nodded. “Those are Carter’s most
     eligible bachelorettes.”
    “Not good,” I said. “Well, you’re not getting any younger. You might want to consider shopping out of town.”
    He looked at me funny for a moment. “Yeah. Good idea.”
    We drank beer in silence for a while. My light jacket ruffled in the breeze and I shivered. Donnie reached out and pulled
     me close to him. “Don’t kick me or anything,” he said, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders. “I promise
     I won’t kiss you.”
    I settled comfortably into his